


DTF

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Everyone Is Alive, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically, it’s Isaac’s fault. </p><p>
  <em>(Prompt from Tumblr<br/>Derek: Are you DTF. Down to fight.<br/>Scott: That is not even remotely what that means.)</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	DTF

**Author's Note:**

> Based off that one post where Derek was like, “Are you DTF. Down to fight,” and Scott was like, “That is not even remotely what that means.” Pretty much crack.
> 
> Established Derek/Scott. Set in some nebulous future where no one died or moved to France.
> 
> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com/post/98773501281/its-true-though-you-are-not-only-heterophobic).

Technically, it’s Isaac’s fault. 

So maybe he’s not paying a  _ton_  of attention when he sends the text. But in his defense, it’s not every day that Danny pops up out of the blue and propositions you in the locker room. 

(“Psh, whatever,” Stiles scoffs. “He did that to me, like, a  _month_  ago.”

“Yeah, but with me, he actually meant it,” Isaac says with a smirk. He’s pretty sure Danny meant it, anyway. He hopes so, because he wants to savor the angry squirrel expression on Stiles’ face for as long as possible.)

So maybe he sends the text without paying too much attention. And maybe “Danny Cute Dimples” is right next to “Derek Frowny Eyebrows” in his phone contacts. And maaaaaybe he hits send, and then maybe forgets about his phone entirely when he gets distracted by Danny himself – who totally meant it, suck it, Stilinski – and then again by some snake monster thing that flies out of nowhere and tries to eat their faces off.

Isaac forgets completely about the text until a few days later, when he’s hanging out in Derek’s loft while Derek cooks him dinner for completely normal reasons and not because he still feels randomly guilty about Isaac getting hurt by the flying snake monster thing. 

(“You weren’t even there when it happened,” Isaac says.

“Exactly,” Derek replies, and continues grating a small mountain of cheese with renewed intensity. Whatever. Isaac likes cheese.)

“So why’d you ask me if I was DTF?” Derek asks.

Isaac chokes on his mouthful of lasagna. “Um, what?”

“You texted me right before the snake monster,” Derek says. He pulls out his phone and shows Isaac the screen. “What’s DTF mean?”

“Uhhh,” Isaac says eloquently. “It means…down…to…fight!” He nods firmly. “Yeah, I meant, like, are you down to fight, because there’s a flying snake monster thing trying to eat my face off so I hope you’re down to fight. The snake monster. With me. Yeah.” 

Derek stares at him like he’s kind of an idiot, which is nothing new, but then he nods thoughtfully. Isaac crams an entire slice of garlic bread into his mouth. “’s there more garlic bread?” 

 

* * *

 

“Scott’s tracking the harpy with Malia, we need to get to them  _now_ ,” Derek says, barreling into the apartment as soon as Allison opens the door. 

“Yeah, I got Isaac’s text,” Allison says. She carefully picks the rifle up off the table. “You got the sedative from Deaton?” 

Derek holds up the vial with a nod. “Are you DTF?” 

Her mouth drops open.  _“What?_ I -No!” 

“You’re  _not_  down to fight this thing?” Derek demands. “It tore the roof off a squad car and carried Parrish off to its lair! He’s probably dead by now!” 

“Wait, I…” Allison trails off as she notices Isaac making frantic cutting motions over Derek’s shoulder. “…I thought we were just shooting it down and then Scott was going to talk to it?” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.” 

“What the fuck?” Allison hisses to Isaac as they pile into Derek’s Toyota. 

Isaac shakes his head. “Just go with it. It’s a long story.”

(Parrish turns out a little scratched and a lot rattled, but at least he isn’t dead so that’s all that really matters.)

 

* * *

 

Derek shifts into his beta form and roars at the incubus. “ARE YOU DTF?!”

The incubus blinks in confusion, straightening from his fighting crouch. Then he yells back, “YES!” and jumps onto Derek. 

“Did I miss something?” Lydia demands while they watch Derek and the incubus roll around on the floor. “I thought we were going to  _fight_  the incubus, not  _fuck_  it?” 

“If this is what Derek considers fucking, I’m very concerned,” Stiles says, tilting his head. “Yeesh.” 

“He didn’t mean-” Isaac begins, then sighs heavily. “Just…just go with it, okay? Someone help me get the incubus off him.” 

Stiles takes a step back. “Hell no. They just ripped each other’s pants off.” 

Scott runs up to them. “Okay, what’s – guys! Derek’s getting the crap beat out of him and you’re just standing there!” 

“Well, we were-” Stiles begins, then trails off as Scott throws himself into the fray. “Aaaand now your pants are gone, too.”

Lydia holds up her phone and takes a picture. 

 

* * *

 

 

 _pack training tom. 3pm. come dtf._  

“Okay, seriously, someone needs to tell Derek what that really means,” Lydia says, wrinkling her nose at the text on her phone. “This sounds like he’s inviting us to a group orgy!” 

“More importantly, someone needs to tell Scott to stop letting Derek lead the pack training,” Malia says. “Has he ever won a fight in his entire life?” 

“Yeah, he totally beat the Oni that one time,” Kira says. “It was pretty cool.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Allison says with a sniff. “But I agree with Lydia. This is getting ridiculous. He’s using it even more, now, and it’s getting kinda creepy.” 

Stiles shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Uh, I may or may not have told him that he was too old to use internet lingo, and that conversation may or may not have directly coincided with when he started throwing it into every other sentence.” 

“Way to go, Stiles.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who told him about it in the first place!” 

“And now he’s using it in his mass texts to the rest of us,” Kira sighs. She shoots upright. “Oh my god. Guys. Oh my god.” 

“Relax, Scott doesn’t get these texts,” Isaac says.

“No. Guys, we never told  _Liam_.” 

They all freeze momentarily before diving for their phones. “Did he text anyone?” Allison asks. 

“He’s probably catatonic with horror by now,” Lydia says. 

“Scott’s gonna kill us if we broke Liam,” Isaac says, dialing frantically. “Hey, Liam, buddy, hi. Okay, so, funny story,  _not_  actually a pack orgy. …Mason, could you pass the phone to Liam, please.” 

 

* * *

 

Derek is rousing them with another impassioned speech – well,  _rousing_  is a kind of strong word, since they all tuned out after the first time Derek brought up Scott’s name. (It only took a record-breaking ten seconds this time, completely unprompted. Lydia’s been keeping track on her phone.) Kira kicks Lydia’s ankle, and she looks up from her Sudoku game as Derek starts wrapping up. “Now,” Derek says, spinning around with a fierce gleam in his eye, “Are you  _DTF?_ ” 

Liam groans. Isaac flicks the back of his head. Scott says, “Um,  _what_.” 

Wait. Lydia sits up and turns to the now-open doorway, where Scott stands with an utterly confused look on his face. It’s adorable, except for how Scott wasn’t supposed to hear that at all. “Down to fight,” Derek says. “Because we’re about to go fight the lake siren-” 

_“What.”_

“The lake siren,” Derek repeats, looking increasingly concerned. “Scott, are you feeling okay?” 

“Do you think,” Scott says slowly, “That DTF…means down to  _fight?_ ” He shakes his head. “Derek, that’s not even remotely close to what that means.” 

Derek blinks, stone-faced, and then slowly turns his head to face Isaac. Isaac squeaks. “In my defense, you didn’t notice that I lied!” he says quickly. “And also no one else corrected you either okay let’s go fight a lake siren!” He bolts from the room, with Liam, Stiles, Malia, and Kira hot on his heels. 

Allison lifts her chin and waits for Lydia to stand before they leave at a more dignified pace. “We’ll just…go take care of the lake siren,” she says. 

They’re halfway to the car when Derek’s voice echoes out the door. “It means  _what??_ ” 

Isaac huddles in the backseat of Lydia’s car. “If I let the lake siren drown me, do you think Derek’ll feel bad enough that he won’t get mad at me?”

“Nope,” Malia says. 

Kira pats his arm. “It’s worth a shot?”

 

* * *

 

Isaac coughs wetly from the back of Lydia’s car. “F’r the record,” he slurs, “I did not do this on purpose.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because I really thought that you let yourself get drowned  _on purpose_.” He smooths Isaac’s hair back from his forehead with a hand that only shakes a little. 

“Derek.” 

“Hm.” 

“You can put me down now.” Isaac kicks his feet a little in Derek’s arms. “Really, I’m totally fine.” 

“I can drive him home while you guys take care of the lake siren,” Liam offers, grabbing Derek’s keys from Scott.

Isaac tumbles out of Derek’s arms. “Are you even old enough to have a driver’s license?”

“Shut up, Isaac. …I have a permit, it’s close enough. And Scott says I’m a great driver!”

“Please don’t drag me into this,” Scott mumbles.

“Dear god,” Isaac says, casting his gaze heavenward. “I’m going to survive drowning via lake siren just to die in a teenage car crash.”

“You’re a teenager, too!”

“Kids,” Stiles says with mock fondness as Liam and Isaac bicker all the way to Derek’s car. “They grow up so fast. Anyway, Deaton says we just need to keep the remains out of the water and it should turn into dust by sunrise.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Derek says. “You guys should go home. It’s a school night, and your English essays are due tomorrow.”

“What English ess – oh, _shit!_ ” Stiles throws himself into Lydia’s car. “Floor it, Lydia! I’m borrowing your laptop!”

Scott sighs as the car pulls away. “You didn’t have to stay, you know,” Derek says.

He shrugs. “I’m the alpha. It’s my responsibility. Besides, I finished my English essay last week.”

“I know.” Derek drags the carcass further from the lake. It’s already starting to dry out and flake, which is pretty gross. The dead fish smell is already pretty rank. “But really. You don’t have to stick aro…you can go, if you want.”

Scott sits down on a log, a safe distance from the nasty carcass. “Why, so you can wallow on your own about the DTF thing?”

“I’m not – shut up.” Derek scowls, the tips of his ears reddening. “It’s not – I mean, Malia’s face when I asked her that makes a whole lot more sense, now, so.” Scott laughs. “Shut up. I know, I’m old and lame.”

“I think you’re cool.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, really, you’re really cool,” Scott says, nodding earnestly. “Your leather jacket? So cool. And your hair’s really cool, too.” Derek rolls his eyes. “And when you wear your thumbhole sweater with your windbreaker and your sweatpants, that is _so_ cool.”

Derek drops his face into his hands, and then immediately jerks away when he gets a faceful of dead siren goop. “Please stop talking.”

Scott hands over his shirt with a laugh. “Here, use this.”

“Thanks.” Derek wipes his face off, then frowns when he realizes he got dead siren goop all over Scott’s shirt. He glares at Scott’s naked torso. “Why’d you give me your shirt?”

“Did you _want_ to keep dead siren goop on your face all night?”

“‘Dead siren goop?’” Derek repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, I never said I was cool, either.” Derek rolls his eyes and drapes his windbreaker over Scott’s shoulders. “Dude, I’m fine. It’s barely even cold out.”

“Scott, I’m pretty sure I could cut a diamond on your nipples right now.”

“Why’re you staring at my nipples.”

“Why _aren’t_ I staring at your nipples.”

“Oh my god, that was terrible. You really are old and lame.”

“Shut up.” Derek pulls him in for a soft kiss. Scott grins against his lips. “Hey, Derek,” he says. “You DTF?”

Derek grins and kisses him again, filthy and deep. He pulls back and says, “Are you kidding me right now? We are not having sex in the middle of the woods next to a dead siren carcass that smells like rotting fish.”

Scott collapses against him with a laugh. “Just checking.” He tilts his head. “Maybe later?”

Derek tucks his arm around him. “Maybe later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say [hi](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com)!


End file.
